David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

Surely it is better for a few to die out of their time, than for many — for multitudes — to suffer?

How many times had she told herself this, repeating it like a spell against her fears? Too many, she realized. But I have gone too far to falter now.

When Learchus died the Dark God's servants had turned their eyes on Sparta, weaving their spells around the survivors Nestus and Cleombrotus, watching over them. It was harder now for Tamis to manipulate their emotions secretly, encouraging them to be reckless, to risk their lives.

Yet the Watchers could not oversee everything and Tamis had waited patiently, ready to exploit even a momentary lapse. Now it had come. The girl Derae had been publicly denounced, her nance Nestus filled with righteous anger and a truly Spartan lust for revenge. Only the death of the man who had shamed him would satisfy his warrior's heart.

The Watchers were furious, Tamis knew. She could feel their anger and frustration like flames in the night. Tamis opened the shutters of her single window and stared out over the distant acropolis.

The first of many perils faced Parmenion now, and she was unable to help him, just as the Watchers were unable to protect Nestus. Now would be a time of swords, of strength and of skill. And the Watchers were closing in. Soon they would locate her, and then would come the onslaught, demons in the night tearing at her soul, or assassins in the daylight with sharp blades to rip into frail flesh.

Turning, she gazed around the squalid room that had been her home for so many, lonely years. She would not miss it, nor Sparta, nor even Greece, the home of her spirit.

Opening the door, she stepped out into the sunlight. 'For the moment, Parmenion,' she said, 'you are alone. Only your own strength and courage can aid you now.'

Leaning on a staff, a tattered grey cloak around her shoulders, Tamis walked slowly from Sparta.

Not once did she look back, nor allow a single moment of regret to touch her heart.

Back at the dwelling the temperature plummeted as a dark shadow formed on the wall opposite the window, growing, spreading, forming into the semi-translucent shape of a tall woman, hooded and veiled in black.

For several moments she moved around the room, her spirit eyes searching. Then the dark woman vanished. .

. . opening the eyes of her body in a palace across the sea. 'I will find you, Tamis,' she whispered, her voice low and cold. 'I will bring you to despair.'

Three days before the end of his stay in Olympia, Parmenion was surprised to see Hermias riding across the long meadow to the house. His friend usually journeyed south to the sea with his family for the hottest part of the summer, and their summer home was several hundred leagues from Olympia.

During the last year Parmenion had seen little of Hermias, for his friend had become close with the young King, Cleombrotus, and the two were often seen together in the city or riding in the Taygetus mountains.

Parmenion strode out to meet Hermias. He too had changed during their time at Menelaus and at nineteen he was strikingly beautiful, with no trace yet of a beard. Once a fine runner, he no longer had the inclination to exercise hard and was rarely seen at the training ground. Hermias had grown his hair long, and Parmenion could smell the perfumed Persian oil which adorned it even before his friend jumped to the ground.

'Well met, brother,' shouted Parmenion, running forward to embrace him.

Hermias pulled back from the hug. 'I have bad news, Savra. Nestus, believing the lies about you, is on his way here now. He means to kill you.'

Parmenion sighed, turning to stare at the distant hills. 'You must ride away,' urged Hermias. 'Do not be here when he comes. Tell me the truth of it and I will try to convince him.'

'The truth of it?' responded Parmenion. 'What would you have me say? I love Derae. I want. .

need. . her for my wife.'

'I accept that,' said Hermias, 'but he believes that you ravished her. I know you would never consider such a vile act, but Nestus is blinded by rage. If you go to the hills for a while, I will speak to him.'

'We made love,' said Parmenion softly, 'and we were foolish. He has every right to be angry.'

Hermias stood open-mouthed. 'You. . it is true, then?'

'I did not ravish her! We are lovers, Hermias. Try to understand, my friend.'

'What is there to understand? You behaved like. . like the Macedonian you are.' Parmenion stepped forward, reaching for his friend's arm. 'Don't touch me! Nestus is a friend of mine, and has been since we were children. Now he carries a shame he does not warrant. I know why you did it, Savra: it was to revenge yourself on Leonidas. I despise you for it. Take a horse and ride from here. Go anywhere. But do not be here when Nestus arrives.'

Hermias strode to the gelding and vaulted to the beast's back. 'I gave up much for you, Parmenion.

Now I rue the day I met you. What you have done is evil and much suffering will come of it. I loved you — as a friend and a brother. But your hate was. . and is… too strong.'

'It is not hate,' protested Parmenion, but Hermias swung the gelding's head and galloped away. 'It is not hate!' shouted the Spartan. Standing thunderstruck as Hermias rode back across the meadow, Parmenion heard footsteps behind him but did not turn. Instead he watched his friend riding into the distance.

'That was sound advice,' said Xenophon sadly. 'Take the bay mare and ride for Corinth. I will give you enough money for the journey and a letter to a friend who resides there. He will be glad to make you a guest until you decide where you want to go.'

'I cannot. It would mean giving up Derae."

'She is lost to you anyway."

'I will not accept that!" He swung on Xenophon. 'How can I accept it?'

'Are you willing to die for your love?'

'Of course. What would you expect me to say?'

'And are you willing, also, to kill an innocent man for it?'

Parmenion took a deep breath, struggling for a calm that would not come. He did not know Nestus well, but the man had never been one of his enemies, had never tormented him. Now he was seeking -

as any Spartan would — to exorcize his shame with the blood of the man who had dishonoured him. He met Xenophon's eyes. 'I cannot run, Xenophon. My life would be nothing without Derae. I know that now.'

The general masked his disappointment. 'How good are you with the sword?'

'Capable.'

'And Nestus?'

'He was — and is — the sword champion of Lycurgus. He is powerful.'

'Can you master him?'

Parmenion did not answer. 'Am I evil?' he asked.

'No,' answered Xenophon. 'Action and reaction, my boy. I knew a man once in Persia who was asked to bring water to a dry area. He built a small dam which diverted a river, irrigating fields and saving a community. They were grateful for he had given them life, and there were feasts and banquets in his honour. He stayed with them for several months. When he left he came, after five days, to a deserted town, where there were corpses and a dry stream. He had saved one community and destroyed another. Was he evil? Intention is everything. You did not set out to shame either Nestus or Derae, but now you must suffer the consequences. One of you must die.'

'I do not want to kill him. I swear that, by all the gods of Olympus,' said Parmenion. 'But, if I run, I can never claim Derae. You understand?'

'You may borrow my breastplate and helm — assuming that Nestus is geared for war. Oh, Parmenion, what has your folly brought upon you?'

Parmenion forced a smile. 'It brought me Derae and I cannot regret that — though I have lost Hermias, and he has been my friend since childhood.'

'Come and eat. The body does not fight well on an empty stomach, believe me. Take honey, it will give you strength.'